Extinction NZ (Book 3): The Five Pillars

by Smith, Adrian J.

  Jack strode into the bathroom and clicked on his flashlight. Excited, he shone it around the room, seeking out any drains. Having dismissed the room earlier, he hadn’t searched it properly. The hand basins were next to a shower stall on the right-hand wall, with a shelving unit. He followed the waste pipes down into the metal grate. They disappeared below the grate and into a shallow crawl space below. It was large enough for them all to wriggle down. An orange electrical conduit was clasped on the other side of the passage wall and disappeared out of sight. He muttered a curse. He should have realised. As an electrician before the Variant scourge, he had spent countless hours crawling in many such spaces. That just left the manhole to gain access.

  Jack was just about to give up searching when, as a last resort, he shifted the shelving unit. And there was the manhole. Strangely, the cover was fastened with four locking clasps, easy to undo if you had a flathead screwdriver.

  Three bangs on the door to the corridor sounded, booming across the room. Then three more bangs.

  Jack ran to his bunk and grabbed his rifle. The banging woke Boss, Aroha and Yalonda. Boss and Yalonda sprang up, grabbing their weapons.

  Jack moved to stand in front of Aroha, then placed a hand on Max to prevent him from barking. Quietly, he herded them into the bathroom. Dee, Boss and Yalonda looked at him, frowning. Before he could explain, there were three more bangs on the door. Jack gripped his rifle tighter and calmed his breathing. That was a human knock.

  A muffled voice shouted through the thick metal, “I know you’re in there. Make it easier on yourselves and come out peacefully. The creatures won’t attack you. I give you my word.”

  “Piss off! Your word means shit, asshole!” shouted Yalonda.

  Dee waved a hand to shush her.

  Jack gestured to the bathroom, and, using his fingers, mimed walking. The three nodded and followed him into the bathroom.

  He showed Boss the manhole cover. “Use your knife. Unscrew these in a clockwise direction,” he whispered.

  “I’ve got something better.” Boss pulled a small screwdriver set from his radio pouch.

  Jack grabbed one and set to work while Boss tackled the other side of the cover. The screwdriver was annoyingly too small. He could feel his frustration building and forced himself to recall the words of the Buddhist monk.

  Don’t let the anger control you. Control the emotion and work through it.

  He focused his breathing and concentrated on the task.

  Boss made short work of the other two screws. Finally the cover lifted free, and Jack cast his light down into the dusty space. Satisfied it was clear, he turned back to Dee, catching her attention. She understood. She and Yalonda grabbed their gear and joined him at the cover.

  “It’s a bit small for my luscious ass,” said Yalonda, smacking her bum to illustrate her point.

  “Well, you can go last so the Variants can chew on it. That should last them a while.” Dee grinned.

  “Just because you look like a hobbit, nerd wife.”

  Jack looked between them before pointing down into the maintenance tunnel.

  Three more bangs on the door.

  “Same as always,” he murmured.

  He wriggled into the hole first and edged forwards on his elbows and knees. Mould clung to the edges and dust was thick, stirring up eddies of irritation. First Boss and Max, then Aroha and Dee followed. Yalonda muttered a few obscenities before squeezing in behind them.

  Jack ignored the pressure on his joints and moved off. The crawl space went under the corridor and below another room. This room was lit with ambient light, but Jack didn’t stop. He wanted to put as much distance between them and the Variants as possible. The question of who the man at the door was flashed in his mind, but he pushed it away. It didn’t matter who or what they were doing.

  He led them under rooms that housed strange-smelling chemicals, and under rooms where the stench of decaying flesh lingered. He briefly thought that they could be passing right under Lab Five, but Ben’s voice echoed in his head.

  Run. Survive. Fight another day.

  Jack knew that the conduit had to lead to a switchboard. All circuits required a breaker switch.

  After the sixth room, the crawl space split. Jack powered on, following the orange pipe, Max and the Renegades panting behind him.

  Finally the conduit curved up. Jack rolled onto his back and searched the cover above. It was hinged on the bottom.

  “Boss. Pass me that screwdriver. Hurry.”

  “Here. Do you need help?”

  “No room. Stay alert.”

  The first screw came free easily, as did the next two.

  A high-pitched shriek echoed down the conduit, sending a shiver up Jack’s spine.

  “Whatever you’re doing, nerd boy, hurry the hell up! We got incoming,” shouted Yalonda. Her L96 rifle barked, the gunshots echoing. Howls answered the gunfire.

  Jack grimaced and strained with the last screw. He twisted with all his strength, but it refused to budge. He growled in frustration.

  There’s always one.

  “Tighten it first,” said Boss.

  “What?”

  “Just try it. It’s a trick my dad taught me.”

  Jack reversed his grip and tightened the screw one quarter turn. Then he tried again to loosen it. This time it gave.

  “Thanks,” he muttered.

  Grinning, he pushed on the cover. It sprang open and clanged against the floor. Boss clambered out after him, and then Jack reached down and helped Aroha and Dee up into the new room. Yalonda continued peppering the crawl space with rounds.

  “Yalonda!”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. One left.”

  With the last of his team through, Jack slammed the cover closed, then searched frantically for something to secure it. A tool chest, heavy with tools, was jammed against a wall. Straining, he dragged it over the manhole cover.

  With the cover secure, he bent over with his hands on his knees and sucked in heavy breaths. Dee and Yalonda had taken up positions next to the exit and Max and Aroha huddled close by. Boss stood to one side, brushing dust from his hair. For now they were safe, but for how long?

  The Renegades were in a long room filled with computer equipment and banks of servers. Next to the manhole was the switchboard. Curiosity getting the better of him, Jack opened the door.

  Rows of breaker switches, each labelled with the designation of the room they controlled, gleamed in the flashlight.

  “Jack, what’re you doing?” whispered Dee.

  “Seeing if I can switch the power off to the right rooms. It might give us a chance to get out of here.”

  “But the doors will be on backup power, won’t they?”

  “Yeah. If we could change the code for the doors, now that would be even better. Anyone know how to hack the system? Boss?”

  Boss shook his head. “I’m a gamer, not a hacker.”

  “Yalonda?”

  She scoffed, grinning. “I only know how to do one thing, Jack. Shoot straight. You nerds figure it out.”

  Jack looked back at the switchboard. They were all neatly labelled, but he had no idea what some of the names meant.

  Lab 1. Lab 2. Lab 3… 5! He knew those.

  Clean room? Bio?

  He checked the inside of the switchboard door. A map of the electrical zones had been stuck to it, with a red dot indicating where they were.

  “Well, I have good news,” he said. “I know where Lab Five is, and how to get us out of here.”

  — 20 —

  The ATV roared down the concrete-lined tunnel. Long banks of fluorescent lights illuminated the way.

  Pig examined the passage as they drove deeper into the mountain, marvelling at the quality of engineering. Whoever had built this structure had had both the time and money to do it properly.

  Cool, fresh air grazed his skin, telling him that as well as having power, the tunnel was well ventilated. He strained his ears, listening above th
e purr of the engines. The unmistakable whir of extractor fans hummed from the ceiling.

  Pig checked to see if the ragged men were watching before pulling the spork free of his boot and slipping it up his sleeve. Originally he had thought to use it to unlock the cuffs. Now he just wanted to stab it in a guard’s eyes and make a run for it. He glanced at Nathan, who was hugging his knees. He wanted to offer the soldier some words of comfort, but he was struggling to console himself. He was certain of his ability to take out the ragged men, but the Variants that followed worried him. More concerning was the scientist. Pig hadn’t managed to get a clear look at her, but her frizzy, wild hair and eyes that darted around reminded him of someone who had tuned out from reality and was now motivated by a deeper emotion.

  The lady in white led the five prisoners on, keeping a constant speed. The tunnel ended in a warehouse-sized natural cavern. LED lamps hung from metal pipes, casting bright white beams and leaving eerie pools of darkness.

  Yellow eyes stared at Pig, watching, waiting, as if they dared him to run. Blue and red drums set on pallets lined each wall. Numerous golf carts were parked next to a concrete ramp that led to a door. This door looked like an airlock he had seen in a sci-fi movie.

  The guards shoved him roughly up the ramp, jabbing at his back with their rifles. At the airlock door, the lady in white spun around to face the prisoners, hands clasped behind her.

  A man dressed in a bright green chemical suit moved from the shadows to stand next to her. The suit squeaked as he moved, like a fetish suit, and his oily black hair was slicked back. Finishing off his crazy outfit were safety goggles that fitted snugly on his head.

  Pig stared at the scene for a moment longer, then let out a laugh. The sight of the wild-haired scientist standing next to this green…frog. The whole thing looked like something out of bad horror film. He waited for a bad German accent. It would complete the stereotype.

  The lady in white glared at him and held up her hand, palm facing out. “Silence!”

  Pig continued to laugh. The situation was just too absurd. He feared what came next, but if he was going to die, then he was going to laugh at these idiots first.

  “Silence!” she screamed again.

  A ragged man walked over and slammed the butt of his rifle into Pig’s stomach. He grunted in pain as the air rushed from his lungs.

  “I will not stand here and be laughed at by common soldiers,” snapped the lady in white. “We are doing important work. You should be honoured to know that your participation will help.”

  Pig sucked in a couple more breaths. “And what is it that you are doing?”

  The lady in white stared at Pig for a what seemed a long time. Her eyes roamed up and down his body, as if contemplating what to do with him. “You wouldn’t understand if I told you. Way above your intelligence.”

  She pivoted, her lab coat flaring out behind her as she moved to the airlock door. She whispered something to the man in green before disappearing deeper into the complex.

  The man in green took two steps forwards. “My name is Dr Wilson.” No German accent then. What a pity. “As you can see by the creatures that surround you, there is no escape. Anyone who attempts it will die. And let me assure you, it won’t be a pleasant death. As Dr Marks said, you should be honoured. Now, follow me.”

  Pig glanced around the cavern, looking for a viable way out. He could smell the faint odour of Variants as well as see their gleaming eyes. With no way out, he sighed and followed Wilson through the airlock.

  Wilson, with the two armed men bringing up the rear, led the prisoners through the complex. Down corridor after corridor lined with orange lights. Up metal stairs that creaked and groaned with their weight. Past doors with glowing keypads. Past doors with thick rubber seals and set off the ground so they had to step over them to get through.

  Pig kept silent and observed everything, mentally mapping out their route. He stumbled forwards as Wilson entered the code, noting the buttons he pushed.

  NZLV-8675309.

  Seeing the number stirred another memory.

  Sitting on sticky leather seats, enjoying an ice cream. His father driving their beat-up old Holden HQ Kingswood home from a hot summer’s day at the beach. His mother’s bright red hair swaying in the wind as she leant down and turned the radio up. Singing along to the song.

  Jenny!

  His brother punching him on the arm. “Two for flinching, Ken!”

  Pig staggered and held his hand out, touching the wall. At the recollection, his mind cleared.

  Major Ken Hind! That’s who I am. Major Ken friggin’ Hind. NZ SAS.

  Pain exploded in his side as a guard slammed his rifle into him. “Keep moving!”

  He ignored the pain and pushed off the wall, his mind racing as the memories of his life flooded back in. He forgot about taking note of their route.

  His childhood. His school life. His first kiss. Girlfriends. Getting up to mischief with his brother. Leaving school and bouncing from dead-end job to dead-end job. Shouting arguments with his father. Boot camp in the army. The joy at finding something he was good at. Pride at making it into the SAS. Training with Captain Ben Johns. Afghanistan. Iran. East Timor. His mission to Wellington to rescue the Prime Minister and finding them all dead. Being ambushed by Variants and collaborators. Running, firing and hiding in the narrow streets of the city. Their desperate dash to the harbour. Variants attacking them as they launched the small row boat. Burning pain from killing the Giant Variant. He had blown its head off with his shotgun. Brains and blood had coated his combat vest. His skin had sizzled. The last two members of his team had saved his life by throwing him into the harbour. He remembered it all.

  Dr Wilson stood in the centre of a room tiled from ceiling to floor. Against the far wall were six shower heads.

  “Take off all your clothing and place them in the bins,” he instructed, pointing.

  Ken glanced at the other soldiers and at the armed men. He made eye contact with Nathan, giving him a slight nod. Nathan shook his head. Ken sighed inwardly. He needed the others’ help in order to escape.

  As if reading his mind. Wilson glared at him and pulled a handgun—a Beretta M9—from inside his suit. “Now!”

  Ken undressed and placed his clothes in the bin. Naked, he stood in the centre of the room. The door opposite opened, and five people in green chemical suits entered carrying buckets of a foul-smelling pink liquid. He scrunched his nose as they drew nearer.

  “Against the wall,” instructed Wilson.

  “What are they doing?”

  “Disinfecting you. Now stand against the wall.”

  The green suits scrubbed them down with the pink chemical. They scrubbed him with a hard bristle brush. He cast his eyes to the floor and watched as the mud and sludge sluiced off him, then cried out in agony as they poured the chemical over his burns. He swung around and punched the person cleaning him, knocking them down.

  “Watch the burns, asshole!” He looked at Wilson. “It’s bad enough being humiliated like this!”

  Wilson lifted up his M9. “Rinse off under the shower and shut the hell up.”

  Ken sighed as cold water washed over him and soothed his burns. Not as good as the mud, but better than nothing. The people in suits stood to attention, waiting. When the prisoners had finished showering, they handed them grey coveralls to wear and forced them to move on.

  Wilson then led the prisoners to a large dining hall and served up a tepid stew that sloshed into bowls in front of them.

  Ken held his breath and gobbled it down. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was with all that had been happening. And right now any food was better than no food. Wilson and his cohorts stood to one side, observing. Their vigilance unnerved him. It was as if they were waiting for something or someone. An idea began to form in Ken’s mind.

  He placed his hands on the table in front of him as his vision blurred, dropping in and out of focus. He pushed up off his chair and took a step back. The roo
m swayed around him, spinning like he’d had too many tequila shots.

  He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what was happening through his foggy mind. Through the sludge, he could just make out Wilson’s face as it appeared above him. Then the world went dark.

  — 21 —

  Once again Dee found herself running through the corridors of the complex. At least the Variants weren’t chasing them at the moment. The map on the back of the switchboard door Jack had found had showed them that the complex had five levels and that they were on Level One. Dee had traced her finger over the map and worked out the route they had taken all those months ago with Katherine Yokoyama. Then she had scanned the numbered laboratories. The logbook was in Lab Five. Three floors up. It would have been an easy decision to make a run for it and leave by the maintenance tunnel that led to the Karangahake Gorge. The plan was to head for Hone and the Pa. But first, seeing as they were here anyway, they had to get that logbook.

  She recalled her last conversation with Ben.

  “The scientist tells me it should be black. A4 size. If you’re not sure, grab them all.”

  “What will be written inside it?”

  “Formulae, tests carried out. Science stuff.”

  “Science stuff? You’re sending me in there with that info?”

  “It should have her name and a log number, with a title like Hemorrhage Virus. That’s the best I can do.”

  “Let’s hope it’s enough.”

  “Keep them safe, Dee. I know you can.”

  “Thanks, Ben. See you when we get back.”

  Dee hugged Aroha tight to her chest and kept her rifle close, shaking her head at the vague description.

  The Variants were quiet for now, but she knew that never lasted. On they ran, down corridors and up stairs. Jack paused at the door at the top of the stairs. A large Lab 1 had been sprayed in the centre. When they had looked at the map, they had discovered shortcuts through the work rooms that made it quicker to move through the complex.